


Prices to Pay

by MariusAngelicaSue



Series: Writing Prompts [1]
Category: Original Work, Writing Prompts - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Just a dump of ideas, writing prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 10:37:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12034152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariusAngelicaSue/pseuds/MariusAngelicaSue
Summary: Their Prompt: Almost everyone goes to Hell to pay for their sins before entering Heaven. Thieves spend a few years, murderers spend a few lifetimes, and then there's the guy who has been there before Satan.My Answer: That guy is God





	Prices to Pay

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a little dump of ideas I got after reading this writing prompt. This was also part of a challenge to write stories that were limited to under 1000 words, so apologies for any pacing issues, I've never been good at shortening my stories.

Everyone has to pay their dues. 

Some are for minor fallacies and mistakes; up on the highest layer of hell, small figures of children shuffle around, occasionally glancing up at the large circle of blue above them, the gateway just barely in reach. Their crimes to stay in Hell for are petty, with nicked pennies and thoughtless pranks in their repertoire.  
The level below has taller shapes residing in it. In the second highest level, the ignorant roam through the painful memories of their lost opportunities and mistaken choices as they listen to the small voices above them. They look up to the sky like meerkats, at the distant ring of blue, waiting, knowing that each of them only has a year to spend there before they can leave. 

A level below them, simple thieves crane their necks to try and see the blue up above, but they can't see it. Red, brown, yellow, gray, each set of eyes sees a different color painting the walls of their punishment, all colors except the sky blue they desire. They continue to stroke the walls, staring down at the dark floor, some sweating in uncomfortable heat and some shivering in uncomfortable cold. They're quiet, hoping that they truly can leave once they've waited a handful of years. They all silently wonder if they were lied to. 

The level below is never silent. Their cries of anger and sadness continue through metaphorical nights, coming together in a choir of discord. Half of them scramble on the walls, screaming for fake justice to let them out, others lie curled up the the center, their wracked sobbing a cacophony of pain. Both the intended and unintended lie in that level, each facing a long wait ahead of them. The unintentional remain a decade, trapped in that unpleasant level, while the intentional stay a century. However, though their times are different, they are all paying the price for the life they had removed from Earth. 

The levels continue moving downwards, the more despicable and malevolent moved further down, away from all the others. On the second to the last level, Hell's ruler sits, a large foreboding weapon in his hand. Smaller figures created in his image lurk around him, their forms changing with each shadow passing over them. First they're beasts with pale fangs and teeth, next they're elegant creatures with large, feathered wings and smooth faces, and then they gain broader shoulders, an upright walk, and shaven beards. 

They all are paying their dues there as well, they all have to wait for their stay there to finish before any of them can ascend to Heaven. But the Devil, ignorant and arrogant enough as he is, made a makeshift throne from rock and leaned back on it, smugly staring at the levels above him as if he were the one to put them up there. The demons scurry around him, each with the time on their heads equally as large as the ruler for their choice of deciding to serve him. They stay down there, listening to the screams and shouts of the humans bathing in their repentance, while they believe themselves to be the greatest holders of sin, thinking that their falling from Heaven created the biggest hole, the deepest layer of Hell. 

But below their feet, there is one more. It's unlike any of the others, completely devoid of description. It's neither warm nor cold, it has no color, and it has no shadows or light. No elements reside there, as it was never meant to hold a member of Earth or Heaven. Its endless, empty space is choking, and the silence in it is like a pressure of its own, twisting anything in it. 

This level is the first of all of them, and its intended resident is older than all the time that's been spent in Hell combined. They're never there, and yet they always were; They're bitterly beloved because of their pathetic power and intelligent ignorance, and they're paying the price of eternity. Their crimes are of creation, the most scrutinized and hated capability in all of the universes. And this being, it has created far too much. 

They've created dark blue skies dappled with glittering stars, they've created glowing balls of gas and twirled them into galaxies. They've nurtured thin, green sprouts and stretched leaves out of the bright color of the stem. They've covered the plants in tough, wooden scales, and watched branches bloom from the center. They've planted countless seeds of life throughout their universe on different stones, watching the green color spread across them before it darkens as rectangular, metal fruit begin growing higher and higher towards the sky. They watched as these fruits sent out seeds: little white shuttles trying to travel as far as it can manage to the other stones flying by it. 

Each one of these planets They have fostered has a Hell underneath, and at the bottom of each Hell, there is a prison just for them. 

And They're imprisoned in all of them, for their crime of creation. 

They're found guilty from how they shook the stones, made cracks in their crusts. They created endless wells of darkness and dropped stars into them like wishing pennies. They created one of the deadliest concepts, weaponized it, and gave it to each of Their creations. They created countless forms of this weapon: war, disease, natural disasters. Each creature wields the concept of death like a knife, leaving traces of grief and pain in their footprints, trying to follow their creators example. 

These creatures now wail above them, in each layer of the thousands of Hells flying through space. 

Their creator felt horror at Their actions, the creation of death and evil. Something had to happen to that Evil, it had to go somewhere.

So They put Themselves at the deepest layer of Hell, paying a perennial sentence for the eternal concepts They have made.


End file.
